Halloween: The Devil's House
by HorrorFan6
Summary: Ben Greene hates his new home. It's an old house that looks like a monster glaring down on the world, a house that feels utterly evil. But worse news is to come. According to his new friends, Ben and his family now live in the childhood home of famous serial killer Michael Myers. And this Halloween, he's coming home again... Rated M for violence, gore, sexuality, and language.
1. Prologue

**A/N: I figured it was high time to actually post a horror story on an account whose username is HorrorFan6…**

**Okay, so…explanations. This is actually the first fan fiction I ever wrote. I started it back in 2008 in honor of ****_Halloween_****'s 30****th**** anniversary. I recently rediscovered it, read it again, and determined that it was still pretty darn good, especially for one of my earliest horror stories and very first fan fiction. I'm in the process of fixing it up a bit: adding descriptive passages, altering iffy dialogue, stuff like that. I'm also going to rework the ending a bit. However, most of the story is going to remain as it was back in 2008 when I wrote it. So if you notice a downgrade in my writing style, some lackluster descriptions, and shorter chapters, that's why. Please don't hold it against me. **

**And just to clear up any confusion, this story takes place in the original series' timeline, not the remakes'. To be a bit more specific (even though it doesn't really matter within the plot of this story), it occurs in the ****_H20_****-****_Resurrection_**** continuity, not ****_Halloween 4_****-****_5_****-****_6_****. **

**_Halloween _****is owned by Dimension Films, based on characters created by John Carpenter and Debra Hill. **

**Without further ado, here's the story. I hope you enjoy it! **

Prologue

Haddonfield, Illinois

Halloween, 1963

On Halloween night, 1963, the little town of Haddonfield, Illinois, was shaken by a horrifying event, the likes of which had never been heard of in this typical American small town. Up and down the street, a woman's screaming made people poke their heads out of windows and step out in bathrobes to see what the commotion was about.

It was coming from the Myers house.

And the screaming woman was Mrs. Myers.

There was no one outside the house except a small boy, six years old and dressed in a cheap clown costume. He was standing at the end of the short drive, stock-still and staring straight ahead. His face was void of expression, as though he was a store dummy advertising the latest in Halloween costumes.

But the truly strangest thing about this picture was the thing in the boy's right hand. It was long, pointed, and dripping blood.

A butcher knife.

The boy was Michael Myers. And he had just killed his sister.

Halloween, 1978

Laurie Strode was exhausted.

She had just grappled with death and won, for now at least. It lay in the bedroom behind her, right outside the closet where she had stabbed it in the stomach with its own knife. She sat leaning against the doorframe, breathing heavily and trying to rid her head of the horrific images that would haunt her till her dying day.

Annie, lying on the bed, wearing only a white button-up shirt borrowed from the Wallace house, her throat sliced open.

Bob, hanging upside-down from the rack in the wardrobe, bleeding through the stab wound in his chest.

Lynda, propped up in the closet, her eyes wide and staring, large purple bruises coloring her neck.

Laurie buried her head in her hands, refusing to look back into the bedroom where it lay. The monster that had killed her friends. The thing that had chased her across the street. The creature that she had stabbed in the neck with a knitting needle, then again in the eye with a clothes hanger. The beast that wore the frightening rubber mask, without expression, never saying a word, only killing.

Slowly, Laurie stood up. She had sent Tommy Doyle and Lindsey Wallace to the MacKenzies to get the police, but they had been so terrified, she doubted if they'd even stopped to ring the doorbell before running like a couple of banshees into the night. No doubt she'd have to call the cops herself. She groaned as her right ankle took her weight and throbbed painfully. It must have been broken, sprained at the very least.

She took an uneven step out into the hallway, her head down, staring at the floor.

Thus situated, she did not see the shadow as it stood up and approached her from behind.

Laurie gasped and let out a strangled cry as the thing grabbed her around the neck and started strangling her. This was too much. She could only endure so much pain, so much fear, so much hardship. But instinct had kept her alive so far, so maybe she could win this battle too, give her just a few seconds to escape one last time. She reached out with her hands and grabbed the horrifyingly blank mask and felt it slide off in her fingers.

The thing let go of her with a grunt and snatched the mask away from her. She fell backward into the corner and looked up in utter terror at her attacker's face, finally revealed in the moonlight. His face was pale, expressionless, very similar to the mask that he was now pulling back over his head.

Laurie knew it was over. She was defenseless, weak, tired, and beaten. Once he had the mask back on, he would attack and end it. And she would let him. Living was not worth this much pain.

There was a loud explosion, and the creature jolted backward, back into the bedroom. Laurie covered her ears as she saw a little bald man with a gray goatee and wearing a long beige trench coat running up the hall from the staircase, brandishing a gun. He stepped up to the doorframe and opened his mouth to speak to Laurie, but he was distracted by the shape framed in the doorway.

_What the…?_

He took aim and fired again. The figure jerked back with the impact of the bullet in his chest but still did not fall. The newcomer fired again, and again, and again, and again, and the thing wrenched back with every shot, finally stepping out the open picture window and toppling over the balcony railing to the front lawn below.

The stranger fired his gun once more, a purely reflexive action, and it clicked in his hands.

Beside him on the floor, Laurie lowered her hands from her ears and stared up at her savior. She glanced at the door to the bedroom and back at him before saying in a weak, shaky voice, thick with tears, "It _was_ the bogeyman."

It wasn't a question, but there was a slight lilt in her voice that made it sound like one, as if she was hoping, praying that the man would contradict her, tell her that he was just an ordinary, if a bit strong, man that was finally dead.

The man with the goatee lowered his gun at last and turned slowly to look at her. He seemed to ponder his answer for a moment before answering, "As a matter of fact, it was."

Tommy's panicked voice echoed in Laurie's head: "_You can't kill the bogeyman_." She put her head in her hands again and started to cry, because she knew what the stranger knew: it wasn't over yet.

Sure enough, when Dr. Sam Loomis walked over to the bedroom window and peered over the balcony, he saw something that made his blood run cold, something that he would vividly remember for years to come.

The lawn was empty.

It was gone.

October 27, 2008

It was back.

It had been thirty years since Laurie Strode found herself face-to-face with the bogeyman. Thirty long, endless years. And every year, Haddonfield dreaded the coming of October. Whenever the citizens started putting out jack-o'-lanterns and the kids started dressing up, the police force waited for some sign of the return of the beast that massacred so many people that awful Halloween night in 1978. It had returned periodically through the decades, continuing its bloody rampage over a span of thirty years, and no one knew when it would strike again.

But when it came, it always struck on Halloween night.

The thing stood in the dark of the night, only a few days before Halloween, 2008. The little town of Haddonfield was sleeping peacefully, their dreams void of any nightmarish image. The possibility that it could return after so many years in exile was ludicrous. There was no need to be afraid.

Oh how wrong they were.

It stood on the front lawn of the house, staring up at its blank, soulless windows. The wind rustled the trees around it, their branches making unearthly scratching noises against the sides of the old building. Structurally, it was in good condition. But psychologically, it was the last place anyone in their right minds would live in.

The house had been empty for several years. Every time people tried to make the place livable again, it had returned to take care of them, usually without any trouble at all. More often than not, it didn't even have to do much. The house's reputation made it the most undesirable property in town. A few scares here, a dead pet there, and people were more than willing to move out. A couple of the more stubborn ones had to be taught a lesson, but the end results were always the same: the house would become vacant once more.

But now it was starting again.

There was a SOLD sign by the driveway.


	2. Chapter One

**A/N: Here's the first official chapter of the story. I hope you enjoy it. **

Chapter One

Haddonfield, Illinois

October 28, 2008

Ben hated it. He hated it a lot.

There was really nothing special about it. It was just an average house that looked right at home in a Midwestern town such as this. There was certainly nothing about it to identify it from any of its neighbors. It didn't stand out as anything special. It was just a house, an old two-story structure with clapboard siding. The paint was white and fairly recent. Its windows were clean and unbroken. The plumbing was intact and functioning. The front porch was entirely new; the old one had been torn down a few years ago. It looked just like every other house on this street: clean, pristine, and livable.

But Ben hated it anyway.

There was something about the house he couldn't explain. It was a sense of foreboding, as if the structure was somehow alive and could sense his presence. The windows were like black, empty eyes that glared down at him on the lawn, daring him to come closer. The front door was like a gaping maw, the entrance to hell itself, beckoning with its doormat of a tongue. Ben shivered.

Mr. Greene came out the door and called to Ben, "Come on, son! Get inside!"

Ben reluctantly walked up the drive to the front door and stepped over the threshold. The foyer was small. There was a staircase to the second floor to the left and a doorway to the living room on the right. The house had an old, unlived-in feeling, and Ben was sure they were the first people to actually occupy it in quite some time.

Upstairs were the bedrooms. His room was at the front of the house, the window overlooking the front yard. Night was about to fall and the ground was bathed in shadows. He looked away from the window, his bright green eyes scanning the little room and its sparse furnishings. He dropped his bags on the bed, sighing in disappointment and running a hand unconsciously through his brown hair.

That sense of unease he'd had when he first saw the house was even stronger now. He lay on his bed and looked up at the ceiling, trying to think of why he felt so melancholy. The room itself wasn't bad, at least not physically, but like the house itself, it had some kind of aura about it that gave a sense of something otherworldly, something inhuman…

…something evil.

"Now cut that out," Ben muttered to himself. "There is no such thing as an evil house. You've seen _The Haunting _too many times. It's just a house."

"Ben?" Mr. Greene poked his head into the room. "Who are you talking to?"

"No one," Ben replied, shaking his head. "Just…thinking out loud."

"Ah," Mr. Greene replied, grinning a little. "And what are you thinking about?"

"Oh, the usual. Sex, drugs, that kind of thing." Ben allowed himself a small smile.

"Well, that's a relief, I thought you might be talking about something useless, like school and homework."

"Nope. Don't waste my time on such trash." Ben smiled more genuinely now, looking over at his father.

"I raised you right," Mr. Greene replied. "Be sure you unpack and get ready for school in the morning."

"Sure thing, Dad," Ben said, sitting up and unzipping his suitcase. Mr. Greene left, and Ben started pulling out clothes and placing them in neat stacks in the bureau beside the mirror on the wall. After that was done – a process that took all of ten minutes – he began on the next bag, which contained his books. Ben was quite a reader and was fond of the classics, though his tastes could also be rather macabre. Along with an anthology of Shakespeare, he had copies of Poe's stories, _Dracula_, and _Frankenstein_. He placed them on the bookshelf on the mirror's other side, and after twenty minutes, he was completely unpacked and his room was stocked. His schoolbag was in the corner by the door. He averted his eyes from it; the prospect of starting a new school was daunting.

Instead he turned to the window and looked out over the lawn again. It was yellow-green and dying; the late October air was signaling the coming of winter. Across the street and on either side of him were other small homes like this one, probably owned by moderately wealthy middle-aged couples. It was a typical American town, no different than any other.

And yet…

Now that he wasn't doing anything, the feeling of quiet discomfort returned in full force. He turned away from the window, thinking. What was so unusual about this particular house that he felt so repelled by it?

Maybe some fresh air was what he needed. He turned and left the room, descending the stairs and heading out the front door to stand on the lawn. The sun was beginning to descend over the treetops of Haddonfield, and the effect was serene, close to perfect. It was marred only by the sense that radiated from the house behind him.

A small noise from his right made him look around. A short, fat man stepped out of the house next to his own and was gazing at him in a peculiar way. Ben guessed he was around forty, judging from the tuft of thinning gray hair and the few stray hairs on his upper lip.

"Hello," Ben called, deciding that it would be best to be cordial from the start. "I'm Ben Greene." He walked over to the fence that separated the two properties and held his hand out to shake his neighbor's.

"Tom Mathis," said the man, his gaze oddly subdued. "Are you living this house here?"

_Isn't that fairly obvious? _Ben thought, but said instead, "Yes. My dad got a job in town. We just moved in."

Mr. Mathis just looked at him for a few moments. At length he said, "I see."

"Is…is there a problem?" Ben asked, not sure if he really wanted to know the answer.

"No, no, of course not," Mr. Mathis said, too quickly. Ben knew he wasn't being totally truthful. Mr. Mathis seemed to realize his mistake, for he added, "Well, it's been vacant for several years now. It has a…history."

"What kind of history?" Ben asked, that feeling of unease very strong in his gut.

Mr. Mathis didn't answer. Instead, he stared past Ben up at the old house, his eyes glazed with distant memories, things Ben wasn't sure if he wanted to know about. Finally, the man looked back at Ben and said, "Don't worry about it. What's done is done." He stared off into space for a moment before adding, "Well, you'd better get inside. 'Round Halloween, I don't recommend staying out too late." Then, without offering an explanation, he turned around and headed up the front steps into his house, leaving a very confused Ben staring after him.

"Do I even want to know?" Ben asked himself, turning to look back at the old house. It seemed to be staring at him.

He shivered and added, "No. Definitely not."

He glanced once more to the spot where his neighbor had retreated into his house. Then, trying to ignore the trepidation brewing within him, he turned back to his new home and headed inside.

…

Mr. Mathis closed the door behind him and ran his hand along the wall, looking for the light switch. He flipped it, but nothing happened. "Shit," he muttered. "Now what?"

He trudged into the hall, feeling his way into the living room, where a jack-o'-lantern provided a little light on the coffee table. In the near-darkness, the flickering glow coming from the pumpkin's innards looked rather menacing.

Mr. Mathis picked up a flashlight on the mantle and switched it on, shining its beam around the room. The couches and chairs cast long shadows that stretched across the floor. The coat rack in the corner of the room was a hulking figure in the darkness. He shivered.

Walking back out into the foyer, Mr. Mathis shone the light in the direction of the basement door, where the fuse box was. He opened the door, which groaned loudly, only adding to the sense of foreboding that was growing in his stomach. "Get a grip on yourself," he said, starting down the stairs.

He froze on the sixth step. He was quite certain that he'd heard another set of footsteps besides his own on the landing behind him. He wheeled around, but there was no one there, and the sound had stopped. "Wow, you're really losing it," he murmured, turning around again and heading downstairs. The basement was even darker than the rest of the house, if that was possible. He found the fuse box in a matter of seconds and headed over to it. Then he froze, his mouth dropping open.

The box was standing open, and its contents had been smashed to pieces.

Mr. Mathis stared at the mangled fuses for a long moment. "What the hell?" he muttered, leaning forward to get a closer look. Who could have possibly done this? And why…?

He suddenly stiffened. He had to get out of there. He had to call the police. There was someone in his house. He turned around—

It struck without warning, and Mr. Mathis caught a brief glimpse of his attacker's face in the flashlight beam. It was pale, expressionless, and oddly familiar. He realized in an instant who – no, _what _– was before him. He opened his mouth to scream, but the sound died in his throat as the shape brought a sledgehammer down in a wide arc, smashing into Mr. Mathis' skull with a sickening crunch. The man's body collapsed without a sound, and it stood over him, observing the twitching form from behind the mask, breathing deep, heavy breaths, tilting its head a little to the side…


	3. Chapter Two

**A/N: Well I have to admit, I had hoped for a more positive reaction to this story. Or heck, any kind of reaction. But so far, no faves, no follows, and no reviews. I don't mean to sound whiny or anything, but would someone please leave a review or something? Let me know that I'm not wasting my time here? I mean, I'll continue this whether it gets looked at or not, but it would mean a lot if I knew there was someone out there who was enjoying it. Please? **

**Anyway, I'm done complaining now. On with the show! **

Chapter Two

October 29, 2008

Haddonfield High School was a one-story structure that occupied a lot on the far side of town. It was only a fifteen minute walk from his new home, so Ben decided to go on foot. He felt the butterflies fluttering in his stomach as he approached the building and got his schedule and information from the friendly lady at the front desk. Then he headed off to US History, weaving through throngs of chattering students, all of whom turned to look at him. _One of the disadvantages of moving to a small town_, he thought wryly. _Everyone knows you're new. _

The feeling of unease increased dramatically when he entered the History classroom. Everyone went very quiet, and Ben could actually hear his footsteps on the tile floor as he walked up to the teacher's desk. The young man in a crisp white dress shirt and blue tie kindly introduced himself as Mr. Hardy and directed Ben to a desk towards the back of the room. A girl directly beside him gave him a shy smile as he sat down, which he tried to return. He thought it might have come out as a grimace.

"Hi, I'm Katie," the girl said as the other students resumed their conversations. "Katie Sanderson."

"Ben Greene," Ben replied, nodding and trying that smile again. It felt better this time.

Katie was pretty. She was thin and modestly curved with red hair, a nice face, and a friendly smile, one that told Ben that he was genuinely welcome. This made him feel a little better. Maybe adjusting wouldn't be so hard after all.

A boy behind him said, "I'm Joey Blanchard." Ben looked around and saw that the speaker was a tall, lanky teenager with coarse brown hair and a bright smile. "What brings you to Haddonfield?"

"My dad got a new job," Ben replied. "We just moved in yesterday."

"Well, welcome," Joey said. "We don't usually get newcomers around here."

"Why not?" Ben asked.

"Oh, you know, small town and all," Joey replied airily. Ben got the distinct impression he was hiding something.

At that moment, the teacher called for quiet, and Ben faced the front with everyone else as the lesson began. He took notes diligently, a practice he had learned from his old ex-teacher. If you didn't copy down every single word that woman said, you would be in for a nasty surprise come test time. Ben sincerely hoped this teacher wasn't quite so cruel.

After History, Katie showed him to Chemistry, taught by a middle-aged woman who smiled welcomingly as Ben was introduced. He made sure to sit beside Katie. At least there was someone here who was friendly.

"Hi," said a voice to his left. He looked around to see a girl, about five foot ten with shiny blond hair and pretty blue eyes, gazing at him. "I'm Alice Whitman."

"Ben Greene," Ben said. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Alice replied, smiling sweetly. "Where are you from, Ben?"

"Chicago," he answered.

"Wow." Alice's eyebrows went up. "A city fellow, huh? This must be a huge change for you, moving to a small town like this."

Ben shrugged. "I guess, but so far it's okay."

Alice snorted a little derisively. "You'll be changing your mind pretty soon, I bet. Especially when you find out just how little there is to do in this town."

Ben didn't quite know how to take this, so he merely grinned and shrugged.

"You'll sit at our table today at lunch, won't you?" Katie asked. Was Ben imagining it, or did she sound rather hopeful?

"Are you all that bored?" Ben asked, trying to sound playful. "So bored you need a new kid in town for entertainment?"

Alice laughed and said, "Yeah, something like that."

Katie, however, looked a little hurt by his response. Ben backpedaled. "That was a joke, Katie."

Katie's injured look vanished and was replaced by a warm smile. "Yeah, I knew that."

The teacher called the class to order, and Ben turned to face her and took more notes. By the time the bell rang, his hand was sore and cramped.

Katie and Alice led Ben to the cafeteria, where a long line of students was forming to fill their trays with unpleasant-looking food. _Well that's nothing new, _Ben thought. _Cafeteria food sucks whether you're in the city or a small town. _

Once the three of them had their food, Katie and Alice led Ben to a small round table, where Joey Blanchard and two other people were already seated. They both looked up as the two girls and Ben approached. "Hey Alice," Joey said, standing up and giving Alice a little kiss. The blonde smiled at him, her eyes shining. Joey grinned at her wordlessly for a second before turning to introduce the newcomer to the two others at the table. "Guys, this is Ben Greene. He's new here."

"Hey Ben," said the boy, grinning. "Name's Steve Morgan." He was tall and thin, with wavy brown hair that looked as though he'd just been on a wild roller coaster.

"I'm Miranda, Miranda Nicholson," said the girl. She was stunningly beautiful, with long blonde hair and blue eyes that sparkled like sapphires. Ben grinned at her, and then noticed that she was holding Steve's hand.

Oh. Off-limits.

He sat down with the friends and listened to their various conversations. Katie asked Alice about her plans for Halloween. "I was thinking about going to Frank's party, but I'm not sure. He's kinda weird," she said, absentmindedly playing with a lock of her hair.

Joey and Steve were talking about a haunted house that opened up in Russellville, another small town not too far from Haddonfield. "I've heard the special effects there are really great," said Joey.

Steve scoffed. "I went there last year. It's cheap shit like projections and guys in black robes and masks. Don't waste your money."

"I went to a haunted house when I lived in Chicago," Ben offered, feeling glad that he could contribute to the conversation.

Joey and Steve looked at him, interested. "How was it?" Joey asked.

"Well," Ben replied, spearing a wilted green bean on his fork and gazing at it thoughtfully, "it scared the shit out of me. But I tend to scare easily, so I don't know how you'd like it."

"I like them good and scary," Steve said, grinning. "Lots of blood, guts, and gore. Can't have a haunted house without those three things."

"We have one of our own here in Haddonfield," Katie said, picking up on the conversation. "A real one. The old Myers house. Plenty of people say it's haunted, and it definitely has a gory past."

"I'll say," said Miranda, shuddering rather theatrically.

Alice looked thoughtfully over at Ben. "The Myers house was sold a couple of weeks ago," she said. "Which house did you move into?"

The entire table fell silent. Ben was suddenly finding it hard to chew. When he finally swallowed, he asked in a would-be-calm voice, "Is the Myers house a small two-story white house, really old, looks as though it belongs in a horror movie?"

Joey nodded, looking very concerned. "Do you know the address offhand?"

Ben thought for a moment. "I think it's 45 Lampkin Lane."

By the expressions of shock on everyone's face, Ben could guess the truth.

"You actually live in the Myers house?!" Steve said in a hushed voice. "Oh man, what's it like in there?"

Ben shrugged and tried to keep his voice level. "It's just an old house. It creaks a bit and the doors don't shut worth a damn, but other than that, it's perfectly ordinary."

Everyone looked rather impressed at this. Ben noticed Katie shudder. Unlike Miranda, she looked genuinely unnerved.

"So what exactly happened in the Myers house?" Ben asked, feeling as though he really didn't want to know the answer.

"Well," Joey said, "it was the childhood home of one of the most famous serial killers in America, Michael Myers."

Ben felt his insides shrivel up. Of course he'd heard the name before. There weren't many people in Illinois who hadn't. "God…" he breathed.

"It was Halloween night, 1963," Steve took up the tale, looking giddy with excitement. "Six-year-old Mikey came home early from trick-or-treating. His parents were at a party somewhere and his older sister Judith was upstairs fucking her boyfriend. Well, little Mikey sneaked into the house, grabbed a butcher knife from the kitchen, waited for Judy's boy toy to leave, crept upstairs, and stabbed his sister a hundred times. There was blood everywhere, man. She wasn't even recognizable, just a huge hunk of bloody meat on the bedroom floor."

Ben felt the gorge rise in his throat and fought to keep himself from throwing up.

"No one knows why he did it," Joey continued, shooting a glare at Steve. "Just went crazy, I guess. Anyway, in 1978, he escaped from Smith's Grove Sanitarium and came back here, to Haddonfield, and started stalking some babysitters, including a girl who turned out to be his younger sister, Laurie Strode. I think it was like, what, sixteen people dead? Halloween night, 1978. His doctor, Sam Loomis, chased him all over kingdom come, even blew up the hospital. God only knows how he survived that one.

"Well, it was assumed that Michael died in the fire, but to my knowledge they never recovered his body. And every once in a while, people claim he's come back. Every few years we hear of people getting killed on Halloween night. Most people think that it's Michael, that he somehow survived and keeps returning to Haddonfield to stalk and kill teenagers. The police find the bodies, but they never catch the guy who's behind it all." He hesitated for a moment. "There is some speculation that he's the bogeyman. Every time he shows up, someone claims to have finally killed him, but then the body always goes missing and he'll show up again in a year or two. Some people believe that he simply can't be killed."

Ben felt as though someone had punched him in the gut.

"Well, the Myers house has been empty pretty much since 1963, when his parents moved out," Alice said, giving Ben a look that he thought might have been truly pitying. "People have tried to live there a couple of times over the past thirty years, but they always leave pretty quickly. Most people in this town believe it's haunted or even cursed. They say that to live in the Myers house is like signing your own death warrant."

Ben finally unstuck his throat and said, "And…do you believe that? Do you believe the house is cursed?"

Steve scoffed. "Dude, Michael Myers isn't even real," he said. "He died back in 1978. From then on it's been copycat killers, and none of them have been smart enough to survive. Bunch of dumbasses, trying to be the next Michael Myers. Don't worry about it, man. You've got no reason to be afraid.

But Ben Greene was afraid. Very afraid.


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

So that was it. That was reason behind the uneasy feeling he'd felt inside the house. That was why Mr. Mathis had been so edgy. That was why those kids had been vague about their surprise of the newcomer.

He lived in the house of Michael Myers, the most infamous serial killer in America. A house where countless people had been murdered, starting with Judith Myers, Michael's own sister. And, if what Steve and Joey had told him was true, he was now sleeping in the same bedroom where Judy had been killed.

Ben tried to avoid the house after school by hanging around with the others at the local diner (the closest thing Haddonfield had to a hangout spot), but when he got a call from his parents for dinner, he had no choice but to return.

He was silent during the meal, and even though his mother had prepared his favorite dish, spaghetti and meatballs, he was barely eating. Mrs. Greene could hardly fail to notice this. "Honey, is something wrong?"

Ben looked up and pondered his response. His brain was screaming at him to tell them what he'd found out and beg them to get the hell out of here before Michael showed up and killed them all, but a small, rational part of his mind told him that acting panicky in front of them was not going to solve anything. So he said, "No, nothing's wrong. I'm just thinking…"

"Uh-oh. That's dangerous," said Mr. Greene, grinning. When the joke didn't get a groan or a laugh or even a chuckle from his audience, his smile faded and he added, "Is anything bothering you, son?"

Ben sighed and said, "It's just the move, that's all. It's taking a little getting used to."

_Boy was that an understatement, _he thought.

He excused himself not long after that and shut himself in his bedroom. There, he lay on his bed and concentrated, staring up at the ceiling. Halloween was the day after tomorrow. Wasn't Michael Myers supposed to always come out on Halloween?

On his bedside table, his radio played oldies, a station Ben was rather fond of. He much preferred the softer music compared to today's loud-enough-to-burst-your-eardrums stuff. Right now the song "Don't Fear the Reaper" was playing, and Ben listened to the lyrics, trying to distract himself.

"_Come on baby…don't fear the reaper_

_Baby take my hand…don't fear the reaper  
_

_We'll be able to fly…don't fear the reaper  
_

_Baby I'm your man_"

Once the song ended, "Mr. Sandman" started. Ben heard the music but wasn't really listening anymore, his mind wandering back to Michael Myers and the house.

"_Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream_

_Make him the cutest that I've ever seen_

_Give him two lips like roses and clover_

_Then tell him that his lonesome nights are over_"

Should it really matter that he was living in Michael Myers' old house? Why should that be a problem? Houses change hands all the time, why should this one be any different? Michael had no reason that Ben could see to get angry this year.

He jumped suddenly. The song "Mr. Sandman" had reached the part where Mr. Sandman actually speaks, and his voice startled Ben. He laughed softly to himself and sat up, placing his head in his hands and thinking, _There you go, Ben. You're working yourself up over nothing again. _

He pulled out his Spanish book and started the assignment he was supposed to be working on. But despite his best efforts, he couldn't quite quell the unease that was constantly niggling in the back of his mind, and when he finally went to bed, it took him a long time to actually fall asleep.

October 30, 2008

The next day, Ben sat down beside Katie and said, "Good morning," to her with a smile on his face.

She grinned back at him and said, "Morning. Sleep well?" Her eyes implied a deeper meaning than her words conveyed.

"Yep, slept like a baby," Ben replied, which was true. Despite his difficulty actually falling asleep, his rest had been more or less peaceful and dreamless.

"Did we scare you yesterday?" Joey asked, leaning forward. "All that Michael Myers stuff is a lot to take in."

"No, I'm fine," Ben said, though this time he wasn't being entirely truthful. His stomach still did funny little flips whenever he thought about the house and its previous occupants. He tried to shut those dark thoughts out, determined to not let Michael's shadow follow his every step, but this was easier said than done.

The teacher began his lesson, and Ben returned his attention to the front, writing down dates and events in his notebook, just like every other kid in the room. He was really no different from any of them, he thought, even if he did live in the town's most infamous house. And he was determined not to let that house cause problems.

All the same, though, there was a small corner of his mind that brooded on the house's history, and the fact that he was sleeping in Judith Myers' bedroom…

At lunch some time later, Steve again brought up the subject of Michael Myers. "So what's it like, living in the Devil's House?"

"The what?" Ben said, momentarily confused, then, "Oh, the Myers house. Well, it's just an old house, you know?"

"But it's _the Myers house_, man!" Steve said. "Every kid in this town avoids that house like it's cursed, and you're actually _living _in it! Shit, man, that's heavy stuff!"

Ben hesitated, the uneasy feeling rising in his stomach. He slowly put down his fork and spoke directly to Steve. "I live in the house of one of the most famous serial killers in America, a house where a bunch of people have been slaughtered over the past thirty years. I'm not exactly doing cartwheels over here. In fact, it kinda freaks me out."

He glanced over at Katie, and their eyes met for a split second. He felt something strange stir in him. It was a kind of soothing feeling, a sensation that made him think, for just a moment, that the house wasn't at all a problem, that he could exist quite happily here in Haddonfield.

Then Miranda's voice broke through his thoughts, and she looked away. Slightly disappointed, he also looked at Miranda. "It's just a house," she said. "I mean, it's not like Michael Myers is still there or anything."

Joey, who seemed to know the conversation was drifting in the danger zone, changed the subject. "Hey Ben, if you want to come, I'm having a small party over at my place, tomorrow night. It's just the five of us, and if you want to come too, you're more than welcome to."

Ben nodded and said, "Sounds like fun. Is it a costume party?"

"Yeah," Joey replied. "Here, I'll write down the address for you."

He reached down into his bag for a piece of paper and a pen, but Steve suddenly gasped, and everyone looked over at him. His eyes were glazed, and a small smile was playing at the corners of his mouth. "I just had the most awesome fucking idea _ever_!"

"What?" Alice asked, looking as if she wasn't sure if she wanted to know, and Ben was feeling the same way.

"Instead of having the party at Joey's house," Steve said, looking at Ben, "let's move it to Ben's place."

"My house?" Ben said blankly. "You mean, have a Halloween party in the Myers house?"

"Yeah," Steve said eagerly, looking like a child on Christmas morning. "You know, it's the perfect place! The Devil's House itself!"

"I really wish you'd stop calling it that," Ben said. "But…I can ask my parents, I suppose. If, of course, that's okay with you, Joey."

Joey nodded. "It sounds fine to me. Just as long as your folks are okay with it."

Ben agreed to ask, and the bell rang. He stood up and headed to class, wondering about his house and the party. He had to admit, having friends over might keep his mind off things. It was better than spending Halloween night alone, anyway.

…

During dinner that evening, Ben broached the subject of the party. "Some new friends of mine have invited me to a Halloween party tomorrow night," he said.

"That's nice," Mrs. Greene said. "Just be home by midnight."

Ben hesitated before adding, "Actually, uh, the house they were going to host it in is unavailable. They were wondering if we could have it here."

"Here? In our house?" Mr. Greene asked, raising his eyebrows.

Ben nodded. "They're a good crowd. There won't be any drugs or anything. It's just those five, Katie, Joey, Alice, Steve, and Miranda."

Mr. and Mrs. Greene exchanged a meaningful glance. Ben suddenly found himself hoping that they'd say no, that his friends would have to find other arrangements.

"I suppose that would be okay," Mrs. Greene said after a moment. "There's that big party at town hall we could go to, so we'd be out of the way and you'd have the place to yourselves. Just be sure that your friends don't mess up anything."

Ben nodded, his emotions wild and confused. For a moment, he was about to tell them the real reason Steve wanted to have the party here, but he stopped himself. His parents didn't know about Michael Myers, and he figured it was better that way.

When he went to bed some time later, his stomach was churning. And he knew it had nothing to do with food.

**A/N: I know the chapters are short, but please remember that this is an old story of mine and I'm not changing much with it. I'm really only adding a passage here and changing some dialogue there, that's basically it. So that's why these chapters are so much shorter than my usual work. Regardless, I hope you're enjoying it! **


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

October 31, 2008

Halloween

"They said it's okay," Ben said as he sat down in History next to Katie. "Seven o'clock, my house. My folks are going to that big party at town hall, so we'll be by ourselves."

Joey nodded and said, "Okay. I'll be there."

Katie looked at Ben with an odd expression on her face. "Are you feeling okay?" she asked. "You look kind of pale."

"I'm fine," Ben lied, not quite meeting her eyes. She still gazed at him, so he added, "Well actually, this whole thing's got me feeling low, to be honest."

Katie nodded in understanding. "Yes, I can see why. But don't worry too much over it. It is just a house, after all."

Ben nodded, trying to smile and not quite managing it. It was Halloween. The day of death itself. Just a house or not, he was scared.

At lunch, he told everyone about the plans. Steve in particular was excited. "We'll so be there," he said. "This is gonna be the best fucking Halloween party ever! Have you all got costumes?"

"I don't," Ben admitted, but everyone else nodded.

"There's a drugstore a few blocks away," Joey suggested. "They might still have something."

So after school Ben found himself browsing the aisles of the drugstore, eyes roving over a rack of costumes. There wasn't much of a selection, but then again, this was Halloween day. That's what he got for waiting till the last minute.

As he examined a cheap-looking ghost costume, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He looked up and glanced around. There was no one in sight. He shrugged and returned his gaze to the costume, frowning. No, this one didn't look good. A sheet over the head would be more convincing. He moved on to the next costume, but then he looked up again. He had sensed rather than heard someone behind him, someone watching him.

But the aisle was empty except for him.

"Hello?" he called tentatively. "Anyone there?"

No one answered.

Feeling not the least bit reassured, he resumed his search, pausing over a vampire cape. It wasn't great, but it would do. He looked at a nearby shelf for some fake fangs…

_What was that sound? _

He turned around and just barely caught a glimpse of someone stepping past the aisle, someone big and tall and wearing something dark. Then he or she had vanished from view.

Now feeling unnerved and not quite sure why, Ben grabbed a pair of fangs and headed in the opposite direction, toward the front of the store. He glanced back once over his shoulder, half-expecting to see the dark-clad figure watching him from the other end of the aisle. But there was no one there.

"You're losing it, Ben," he muttered to himself. He turned forward again…

…and collided with someone standing in his path.

"Shit!" he cried, jumping back and raising his arm to defend himself.

"Whoa there!" the store clerk yelped. "Easy, man! I'm sorry, I thought you saw me."

Ben let out a sigh and felt himself turn red. "No, I…I'm sorry. I guess I'm a little jumpy."

The clerk nodded, looking slightly concerned. "You sure you're okay, man?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," Ben insisted, trying to smile but not quite succeeding. He ducked past the clerk and headed to the checkout. He refused to look back over his shoulder again until he was safely back outside.

Carrying his backpack on his shoulder and carrying his new costume in a plastic bag on his arm, Ben headed for home. The backpack was light; he'd left most of his books in his locker. It was Friday, and apparently the teachers were feeling rather generous because they'd assigned no homework for the weekend.

He turned the corner and started down a new street. It was deserted except for himself, but the same sense of being watched he'd had in the drugstore returned. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that there was no one in the vicinity. He looked ahead and almost immediately turned around again. He knew, just knew that there was someone else in the area, someone who was determined to not be seen.

He stopped walking and faced the direction he'd come, not moving, his heart doing a fierce drumroll in his chest. "Who's there?" he said in a quavering voice.

No one answered him. He gazed uncertainly around, looking for anything out of the ordinary, anything at all that would explain the sensation he was feeling, the sensation of being watched. There was nothing strange at all here, though, so he turned around again and continued his walk home.

He heard something crunch behind him.

He jumped and whirled around, expecting to come face-to-face with whomever was following him. Instead, he saw a shape down the block. It was a person, no doubt about that. But there was something off about him. He looked a little too pale to be real, as though he hadn't seen the sun for decades. He was dressed in navy blue coveralls that looked old and dirty, as though they hadn't been washed in days. He was just standing there, his arms down by his sides, watching Ben as he gazed uncertainly at the stranger.

"Who…who are you?" Ben called.

The stranger didn't answer.

"What do you want?"

Still nothing.

Unnerved, Ben turned away and started walking toward home, his feet hitting the pavement a little faster than usual. He glanced back and felt his heart miss a beat. The shape was following him, and he was much closer now. Now he could see why the man looked so pale. His face was hidden by a white rubber mask. But Ben had never seen a mask like this before. It was blank, expressionless, and ominous. The eye holes were dark, and looking into them, Ben felt a sense of something powerful and sinister, as if the thing behind the mask was emitting some kind of evil aura.

Ben faced forward again and picked up the pace, listening intently for the sound of the stranger's footfalls. Not hearing any, he glanced back again and nearly screamed. The shape was almost directly behind him. _What the hell?!_

Ben broke into a run, trying to put distance between himself and the stranger. He didn't dare look back to see if he was pursuing, he just ran like he'd never run before. He turned down another street and kept running, past houses and yards, past people raking up leaves, past flickering jack-o'-lanterns leering at him from front porches.

Ben saw the next corner coming closer and knew that he would soon be safe. His house was on this street. He decided to cut the corner and increase his distance. But as he stepped onto the grass, his left foot landed in a patch of mud, and he went down with a startled cry. He landed in the puddle with a wet splat, and rolled over to see how far behind his pursuer was.

He was gone.

Ben stared at the sidewalk and then whipped his head around from side to side, his eyes scanning the trees lining the path, the shrubbery separating one house from the next. There was absolutely no one there. His breathing slowed, relaxed. He was safe, for now at least.

He stood up and resumed his walk toward home. He shivered as the cool autumn breeze hit him and his wet clothes. He'd have to change and shower when he reached the house.

But when he rounded the corner, all thought of cleanliness vanished. There were police in front of his house. Two squad cars and an ambulance, lights blazing, were parked on the curb. His heart hammering again, Ben approached the yellow police tape, worried about his parents. Had they already left for the party? Were they safe?

But as he got closer, he could see that the tape wasn't around his house at all. It was around the one next door. Mr. Mathis' house.

He reached the caution line and called to a cop by the front door, "What happened?"

The officer looked over at him like he was a pestering little kid. "There's been a murder," he said in a bored, casual voice. "It's pretty nasty."

A murder? Here? Next door to his house? Ben's throat went dry.

"Mr. Mathis?" he said, his voice cracking.

The cop nodded, and now Ben could see that his relaxed stance was just a cover-up. His eyes were full of fear.

"What happened to him?" Ben asked.

The cop opened his mouth, probably to tell him that it was none of his business and to run on home and not breathe a word of it to anyone. But he was interrupted by someone in the house saying, "Okay, let's get him in the ambulance quickly, before anyone sees."

Both the cop and Ben looked at the front door and saw a stretcher come out. A body lay on top, covered by a white sheet. As it passed, the wind picked up a bit, tossing a corner of the sheet aside. Ben caught a glimpse of the mangled mess that remained of Mr. Mathis' head and felt the gorge rise in his throat. He quickly looked away as the paramedic hurried to return the sheet to its original place before rolling the stretcher to the waiting ambulance. Ben's stomach continued to churn, and he refused to look up again until the ambulance had departed. He then walked up to his house.

As he turned up the drive, the cop called after him, "Hey! That where you live?"

Ben looked back and said, "Yeah. We just moved here. Why?"

The officer said nothing, but his expression spoke volumes. His eyes were wide, disbelieving, and fearful. There was no more false tranquility anymore. He was scared.

And, turning back to face the house, the house that was feeling less like home by the second, Ben was too.


	6. Chapter Five

**A/N: Sorry it's so short. Apparently I didn't know how to write long chapters back in 2008. I tried to add some stuff to it but it's still a lot shorter than I'd like. Oh well. Hope you enjoy it anyway. **

Chapter Five

Ben found a note on the kitchen counter from his parents, saying that they'd already gone to the party in town and telling him where to find chips and drinks for his little get-together. For a moment, Ben was glad they were gone. They were too good to be caught up in this mess.

Then he looked around the room, and he wished that they were here with him. He was alone on Halloween in the Myers house, the Devil's House, as Steve liked to put it. He shuddered.

For a few minutes he merely stood there, leaning slightly against the counter, his eyes slowly roaming about the room, unconsciously listening for any sound out of the ordinary. There was silence. Usually he would have been relieved, but now the utter lack of sound was a little unsettling, as if God had hit the mute button on some giant TV remote. He tentatively cleared his throat just to hear the noise, to make sure that he hadn't gone inexplicably deaf. The brittle sound wasn't loud, but it seemed to almost echo in the awful, absolute silence that had fallen on the house.

He realized that his wet clothes were sticking to him and making him cold, so he headed upstairs to his room, dropping his backpack and his new costume on his bed before pulling his shirt over his head. He then kicked his pants off and dropped both articles into the laundry hamper in the corner. Shivering slightly, he hurried to the bathroom and started the ancient shower. While he waited for the water to warm up, he continued to strain his ears for any sound out of the ordinary. Apart from the creaking, groaning, and clanking that usually came from old houses, there was nothing.

He stepped into the shower and sighed as the warm water rushed over his shoulders, relaxing his tense muscles. It also cleared his head, allowing him to think properly as he scrubbed dried mud from his arms.

Mr. Mathis was dead. Murdered, and brutally so, judging from the nearly unrecognizable state of the guy's head. Clearly something large and heavy had struck it, wielded by a force Ben couldn't even begin to imagine.

Mr. Mathis had lived right next door to the Myers house. He must have died not too long after Ben had met him, a day at most. Was there a connection? There had to be. It was too close to be coincidental.

_Michael? _he thought. _Was it Michael Myers? _

Was Michael Myers trying to warn him? Telling him to get the hell out of his house and never return? Or was it simply a fluke that there had been a brutal murder right next door, just a day or two before Halloween? Or, as Steve seemed to think, was a Michael Myers wannabe skulking around, awaiting the chance to strike…?

"Now cut that out," Ben muttered. "There is no bogeyman. It's just a coincidence that Mr. Mathis was killed. It had nothing to do with Michael Myers and the police will catch the killer in no time. Stop freaking yourself out."

His words did nothing to calm him, though. All the reassurances in the world couldn't do that. Something was very wrong here, he could sense it. Whether it was Michael or not was unclear, but Ben had no doubt that there was something horribly amiss. And he had a feeling that if he didn't figure it out pretty soon, something really bad was going to happen. And when it did…

Something creaked.

Ben froze, his heart stopping for a second before resuming at twice its usual speed. He was used to creaks and groans. They were unavoidable in a house this old. But that hadn't been the usual old house noises. That was the unmistakable sound of a floorboard groaning under pressure.

Someone was outside the bathroom door.

Ben stood stock-still, hardly breathing as he listened intently. Hearing nothing, he thought that maybe he'd imagined it. Maybe it had only been the kind of sound he was used to, just different in pitch in the tiled bathroom.

Then he heard it again, and this time it wasn't a floorboard. It was the door.

Ben's heart was pounding so hard he thought it would burst. The bathroom door was opening, and he had locked it. He was certain of that. How the hell was this happening?

Slowly, Ben reached up, taking the edge of the shower curtain in his hand. He hesitated, unsure and afraid of what he might find lurking on the other side. Then, gritting his teeth, he wrenched the curtain back.

There was no one there.

But the bathroom door was open. Turning off the water and wrapping himself in a towel, Ben poked his head out into the hall. It was deserted. Swallowing nervously, he stepped out of the warm bathroom and into the chilly corridor. The floorboards creaked under his feet, and he flinched.

He heard something slam downstairs, like a cabinet door.

The kitchen.

Tiptoeing to the landing, he peered down the stairs. The foyer light was on, just as he'd left it, and the front door was shut and locked. Nothing seemed out of place. He came down the steps one at a time, his ears strained for any sound other than his own trembling breaths and hammering heartbeat.

The living room was empty. He checked behind the couch but there was no one hiding there, and there were no other hiding spots available. Ben's eyes scanned the room warily and they landed on a door on the opposite wall, the door that opened up into the dining room. It was standing slightly ajar. Had it been that way earlier? He couldn't remember.

He looked around, searching for a weapon, and reached into the fireplace, grabbing a poker and holding it out in front of him, ready to attack if necessary. Then he faced the dining room door and walked toward it, the poker's point preceding him. At the door, he froze, hand outstretched to push it open.

Who was behind this door? Was it the same person who'd scared him that afternoon? Was it perhaps Steve playing a cruel Halloween prank?

Whoever it was, he wasn't going to solve anything just standing here, so he shoved the door open and stepped into the dining room, lifting the poker high and ready to strike.

There was no one there.

He reached out and flicked the light switch, bathing the room in a warm white glow. He lifted the tablecloth and checked underneath to make sure no one was hiding there. There wasn't. Lowering the cloth, he tiptoed around the table to where the kitchen door sat in the wall. Again he paused, one hand reaching out to push it open while the other clenched around the poker. He took a deep breath. Then another.

Then he barged into the kitchen.

It was empty.

But he was dismayed, though not really surprised, to see the back door open. He walked forward, closed it with a snap, and locked it. Then he turned to face the room at large. Still, nothing looked untouched. Everything was right where it should have been.

And yet…

Someone had been in the house besides himself. He was sure of it. The only question was, were they still here? Were they hiding in some corner, waiting for him to come within attacking range? Or had they left the house, either for good or until a more opportune time?

There was only one way to find out.

He lifted the poker again and retreated back into the living room. Once in the foyer, he turned into the office and checked behind the desk. Satisfied that no one was on the lower level, he crept back upstairs and checked all the bedrooms, including closets and adjacent bathrooms. He held his makeshift weapon aloft the whole time, never lowering it for a second. Every small noise, the creak of a floorboard under his feet, the squeak of ancient hinges, each sound the old house made set him on edge, making him tense up and hold his breath. He was certain that behind every door, hiding around every corner, something was waiting to strike, to attack, to kill…

But it never happened. He searched each and every room in the house from basement to attic and found nobody lurking anywhere.

There was no one in the house.

Slightly relieved though not altogether reassured, he lowered the poker and walked back to his bedroom, intending to get dressed before his friends arrived.

If he had been a bit more observant back in the kitchen, he would have noticed that one of the knives in the wooden block by the stove was missing.


	7. Chapter Six

**A/N: These chapters just keep getting shorter and shorter…**

**Also…this is where the story gets part of its M rating. There's a sex scene. I did cut a great deal of the original content because I found myself really uncomfortable dealing with that subject, but I didn't take the whole thing out. I'm not sure why I did the scene in the first place, probably just to stay true to the conventions of the genre, specifically the ****_Halloween _****movies. Or you could blame teenage hormones. Take your pick. **

**Anyway, on with the show. **

Chapter Six

When the doorbell rang at precisely seven o'clock, Ben jumped up out of his armchair in the living room to answer it. Joey, Alice, and Katie were standing on the porch, smiling and dressed in elaborate costumes. Joey was wearing a cowboy outfit, complete with hat and belt buckle. Alice was dressed in a 1950s-era pink poodle skirt that fell down to mid-calf. And Katie was radiant in a flowing masquerade gown that trailed the floor and glittered in the light from the foyer.

Ben, who had dressed in his new vampire cape, grinned widely to show off his fake fangs and said, "Welcome to my home," in his best (and really quite terrible) Transylvanian accent. "Please do come in."

"Why thank you," said Alice, smiling and nodding her head to him, leading the others inside. Joey and Katie followed, the latter smiling shyly at him.

"You look beautiful," Ben said, dropping the phony accent.

"Thanks," Katie said. "My mom helped me with the finishing touches, but it's actually just a dime-store costume."

"It still looks good," Ben said, and he immediately felt like an idiot. But Katie just smiled, thanked him again, and followed the other two into the kitchen, where Ben had set up the snacks and drinks. As agreed, there was no alcohol. Just soda. No one complained, however, and they were chatting pleasantly in minutes.

"You know, I've never been in here before," Alice said, gesturing around the room. "In the Myers house. I've always been scared of it. But you're right, Ben. It's just another old house."

Ben wasn't sure if she truly meant it or was just telling him this to make him feel better. He wondered vaguely if Katie or Joey had put her up to it. But he appreciated it all the same and smiled gratefully.

The doorbell rang again, and Ben hurried to answer it. Miranda entered, wearing a tight-fitting biker jacket that was only zipped up to the cleft of her breasts and showed off every curve and dip of her stunning body. Ben looked away quickly, trying to keep eye contact as he said, "Welcome to my home," again in that Romanian tone.

Steve was right behind Miranda, wearing the same thing he'd been wearing that day at school, a dark t-shirt and blue jeans. There was a brown paper grocery bag in the crook of one arm. "So what are you supposed to be?" Ben asked, grinning. "Came dressed as yourself? My, that's really scary."

"Fuck you, asshole," Steve said, grinning, and he playfully punched Ben's arm. "My costume's in the bag. Didn't have time to change."

He entered after Miranda, and Ben shut the door, making sure it was locked behind him. He joined the others in the kitchen. "Where's the beer?" Steve asked, looking around at the soda bottles.

"Sorry, no booze," Ben said, pouring himself a drink. "Help yourself to some Coke, though."

"You didn't tell me it was BYOB," Steve sighed. "Oh well. Coke will have to do, then."

Ben felt the need to explain. "Since my parents were kind enough to provide the house tonight, I didn't feel it was right to bring alcohol behind their backs, especially since they specifically said no booze."

"Hey, man, I was kidding," Steve said, raising his eyebrows. "Don't you know a joke when you hear one?"

Ben blushed and said, "Sorry. I've been a bit edgy today."

"We've noticed," said Steve. "What, did you see a ghost on the way home or something?"

Ben teetered on the edge of telling them all about the dark figure he'd thought he'd seen in the drugstore and the stranger who had chased him home, but decided against it. He didn't want Steve to think he was paranoid, which he already seemed to anyway.

"So this is the Devil's House. Sorry," he added, glancing at Ben, "the Myers house. This is what it looks like on the inside." Steve looked at one of the drawers in the counter and pulled it out. "And here's where little Mikey got his knife forty-five years ago, the night that started it all."

"Can we please not talk about it?" Ben asked. He was starting to feel uneasy again, even though he was surrounded by people.

Steve glanced at him, seemed to understand, and changed subject. "I'm gonna go upstairs and change into my costume," he said.

"I'll help you with the back zipper," Miranda said. Steve shrugged and the couple left the kitchen and started up the stairs.

But Miranda didn't lead Steve to the bathroom like he was expecting. She led him to Ben's room. "So this is the place," she said. "This is where he killed his sister."

"Yeah," Steve said, gazing at the bed, "This is where it all began. This boring-ass little town hasn't been the same since that night. They really should open this place up as a museum or something, you know?"

Miranda laughed. "You'd have to convince Ben and his parents to move out first."

Steve grinned and quirked an eyebrow. "I don't think it would be too hard to get Ben out of here. Did you notice how skittish he's acting tonight? He's totally freaked!"

"Yeah," Miranda agreed, nodding. "Still…" She trailed off, and silence fell between them for a moment. Then Miranda smiled. "Mm," she sighed, turning to face Steve. "Isn't it so exciting, being here in the Devil's House? In Judith's bedroom?"

She moved closer to him, and their bodies touched. Steve blinked, a little surprised. Then he smiled too, his eyes full of lust. "Yeah," he said, "it is."

He kissed her roughly, passionately, sticking his tongue in her mouth and moaning with desire. Miranda reached down and pulled down the zipper of his jeans. "So that's what you meant when you said you'd help me with my zipper," Steve said, grinning.

Miranda grinned slyly back and said, "Yes. That's what I meant."

Steve reached up and pulled down the zipper of her biker jacket. "Ooh, naughty girl," he muttered. She wasn't wearing anything under the leather. Her breasts were released from their constraint and blossomed out before him, full and round and smooth. Steve felt himself growing stiff, creating an unpleasant pressure in his jeans. Miranda reached in and coaxed him out, holding him in her hands, caressing the long, solid shaft.

She moaned once, and that was the only permission Steve needed. He pulled the jacket completely off and pulled down her pants. Miranda pulled his shirt off over his head and lowered his jeans. Wrapped up in each others' arms, they lowered themselves onto the bed, Steve on top. Miranda gasped. "Shh," Steve cautioned. "It wouldn't do to have Ben find us doing it in his bed."

Miranda giggled and moaned as they descended into mad, thrashing carnal delight. The bed squeaked and creaked softly beneath them, mingling with their gasps and moans and murmurings.

These sounds masked that of someone else breathing heavily. So lost in each other were they that neither of them noticed the dark shape standing in the doorway, watching their every move. It tilted its head to the side as it observed their coupling, the eyes hidden in shadow by the pale white mask it wore, its fingers slowly stroking the handle of a long, shiny butcher knife clutched in one large, trembling hand.

**A/N: …well that was awkward…**


	8. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

While Steve and Miranda made love upstairs, the others took their drinks and congregated in the living room. Ben turned on the radio and switched to an oldies station, twisting the volume dial about halfway around. He had been a little worried about how the others would take his taste in music and preference for a lower volume level in an age where loud rock was much more popular. But Joey and Alice didn't seem to mind. They were dancing in timed swaying motions, facing each other, Joey's hands around her, Alice's hands on his shoulders.

Ben and Katie were seated on the living room couch, watching Joey and Alice dance. They were sitting rather close and Ben was fully aware of her proximity, though he tried to pretend otherwise. He had never been so nervous around a girl before, and he had no idea why he was now.

Katie turned to look at him. "Enjoying the party?" she asked, grinning.

Ben grinned back. His smile was normal now; he'd taken out the vampire fangs a few minutes before. "Yeah," he said. "It's going great."

Katie didn't look away. "Does it still bother you?"

Ben didn't need to ask what she meant. "A little," he admitted. "It's unnerving to know that a lot of people died in this house. I didn't tell my parents, though. I didn't want to worry them or ruin Dad's new job because of my stupid worries."

Katie nodded thoughtfully. "That was very kind."

Ben studied her eyes for a moment. Then he confessed, "Someone followed me home from school." He told her about his experience in the drugstore, his encounter with the masked stranger, learning of his neighbor's death, and about searching the house. When he finished, Katie was looking rather startled, but not outright fearful.

"Do you think I'm going crazy?" he asked her.

"No, not at all," she said. "In fact, I think you're handling it all very well, all things considered. I don't blame you at all for being a little freaked out about living here. I would be too. Remember, I always tried to avoid coming down this road because I was so scared of this house. You're very brave to agree to live here and not complain about it."

Ben felt a happy bubble swell inside him.

"Anyway," she said, smiling, "I'm glad you moved to Haddonfield, Ben."

Ben felt that bubble inflate more rapidly as she smiled at him. Gathering his courage, he leaned forward and kissed her tenderly, their lips meshing together like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle as Joey and Alice danced away to the music.

…

Upstairs, Steve and Miranda lay together in Ben's bed, their breathing slowly returning to a normal rate.

"We ought to get back downstairs," Miranda murmured, sounding as if the idea wasn't high on her priority list. "Ben will start to wonder what's taking us so long."

Steve sighed. "I guess." Then he grinned. "Though he might be too busy to even notice our absence."

Miranda frowned. "What're you talking about?" she asked.

"Haven't you seen the way Katie keeps looking at him?" Steve said, chuckling. "And Ben's been giving her the eye since he first got here, too. It's only a matter of time, if you ask me."

Miranda smiled. "Aw, that's sweet," she said. "It's about time Katie got a boyfriend."

"And if they get involved with each other downstairs," Steve pointed out, "then chances are good that we have time for…" He trailed off, his fingers moving toward her breasts.

Miranda giggled and swatted at his hand. "Maybe later, babe. Right now we have other business to attend to." She sat up, reaching for her leather jacket. "Let me see it."

Steve sighed in disappointment but obediently reached for the brown paper bag he'd dropped on the floor. He showed Miranda the contents, and she quickly covered her mouth to stifle her laughter. "This is gonna be good," she said.

"Sssh," he said, grinning and standing up. "You don't want to give away the surprise." He emptied the bag and started pulling on the costume.

…

"I'll be right back," Joey said, reluctantly letting go of Alice. "Bathroom."

"Okay," Alice replied. Then she grinned. "Don't take too long, all right?"

Joey smiled. "You got it."

"Bathroom's down the hall on the left," Ben directed, motioning toward the living room door.

"Thanks," Joey said, raising his eyebrows slightly as he observed Ben and Katie seated snuggled on the couch together. Then he left, chuckling silently.

He entered the bathroom and closed the door behind him, turning his back on the entryway and facing the toilet. As he emptied his bladder, he wondered vaguely where Steve and Miranda had gotten to. It shouldn't have taken this long for Steve to put his costume on.

_Steve, if you're planning on playing some prank on Ben, I'll kill you_, he thought as he finished, zipping his pants and flushing the toilet. _That poor boy's got it hard enough already, living in this house. He doesn't need you making things…_

The bathroom door was open.

He froze, staring into the mirror above the sink. Behind him, the door was standing wide open. He turned around, frowning at the entry in confusion. He was quite sure he'd shut it firmly when he'd entered.

He remembered how Ben had described the house on his first day of school: "It's just an old house. It creaks a bit and the doors don't shut worth a damn, but other than that, it's perfectly ordinary."

"Old house," he muttered, reaching out to shut it again, making sure this time that the latch clicked in the frame. Then he returned to the sink to wash his hands.

He glanced up in the mirror and felt his heart miss a beat. The door was swinging open again.

He whirled around and stared at the entryway. How in the world…?

Then he huffed. "Steve, you asshole, knock it off!"

He walked up to the threshold and stuck his head out into the hall, looking left and right. There was no one around.

There was an odd sensation brewing in the pit of his stomach and he couldn't quite figure out what it was. He ducked back into the bathroom, finished washing his hands, and quickly departed, glancing once over his shoulder as he made his way back to the living room. The hallway was still deserted.

So why did he feel like someone was watching him?

"Hey," Joey said as he reentered the living room, "have Steve and Miranda come back down yet?"

The answer was fairly obvious: Ben, Katie, and Alice were the only people in the room.

Frowning, Ben shook his head. "No, they haven't. What's taking them so long?"

Joey, thinking about the bathroom door, merely shrugged. There was no reason to tell Ben about his experience. It would only cause him further worry, which he didn't need. "No idea," he replied, returning to where Alice stood and taking her into his arms once more, successfully pushing all thought of Steve and the bathroom door out of his mind.

…

"Now go down there and act natural," Steve said, grinning in anticipation. "Tell them I'm taking a piss or something. I'll be down in a bit."

Miranda nodded, kissed him, and left the bedroom, still shaking with silent laughter.

She returned to the living room and said, "Steve's in the bathroom. He'll be down in a second."

Ben nodded, not really listening. He was distracted by Katie and had no room in his head for much else. Katie was grinning, shyly looking sideways at him from time to time, her hand entwined in his. Joey and Alice had started dancing to another song on the radio. It was "Mr. Sandman" again. They were a little closer together than they had been before, and they only had eyes for each other.

So none of them saw the shape step into the doorway.

He was tall and muscular, dressed in plain navy overalls and wearing a plain white mask, void of expression. He was holding a shiny butcher knife in one tightly clenched fist.

Joey was the first to see him. "Holy shit!" she shouted, jumping backward. Alice wheeled around and Ben and Katie twisted in their seat to see the stranger standing there, silent and unmoving. The girls screamed and Ben yelped in terror, leaping up and pulling Katie behind him. Reaching toward the fireplace, he pulled out the long poker he'd used earlier and brandished it.

"Hey, whoa, don't hit me, man, it's just me!"

The hand that wasn't holding the knife reached up and pulled off the mask, and Steve revealed himself, his mouth parted in a broad smile and face red with laughter.

"Goddamn it, Steve!" Ben shouted. "What the hell is this?!"

"Hey, man, it's just a joke," Steve said, still choking with laughter. "It's Halloween. Everyone's entitled to one good scare."

"You bastard!" Ben said, his voice higher than it had gotten in a long time. "You fucking bastard! Is this what Michael Myers supposedly wears?"

"Yeah," Steve said. "He stole a mechanic's overalls and a mask from the department store here in town that first Halloween. I'm just carrying on the tradition."

Ben let out an inarticulate cry of rage and lifted the poker above his head. "Okay, okay!" Steve added quickly, backtracking a little. "I'll go take it off."

He turned away and left the room, leaving a stony silence behind him. Miranda was standing awkwardly in the corner. She'd laughed with Steve when he'd appeared and revealed himself. But after the unexpected blowout from Ben, she wasn't finding it very funny anymore.

Ben turned to her, his eyes cold, and said, "You were in on it, weren't you?"

Miranda blushed and looked at the floor. She nodded.

Ben said nothing more. He turned away and flopped back down on the sofa, his eyes distant and unseeing.

It looked like the party was over.

…

Upstairs in the bathroom, Steve was clambering out of the coveralls. He faced his reflection in the mirror and asked himself, "Did I really deserve that?"

He studied himself for a moment and then answered his own question. "Okay, maybe I overstepped my boundaries a bit. But I wasn't gonna really stab anybody! Jesus, Ben's more paranoid than I thought."

He shook his head and bent down to pick up his jeans.

He didn't see the shower curtain shift.

He didn't see the white mask appear.

He didn't see the knife rise up behind him.

Steve straightened, pulling his pants up to his waist, and looked back at the mirror. He saw it standing behind him and his eyes widened in shock and fear. His mouth opened, articulating a scream.

The shape rammed the butcher knife into Steve's back, plunging it into his heart and out through his chest, the point dripping blood, protruding an inch from his skin. The scream he'd been about to release died in his throat and came out as a sharp expulsion of air instead. The last thing he saw was the mask's reflection, leering expressionlessly at him as he died, the eyeholes dark and empty, pouring the very essence of evil into his soul.

Then the world went black.

**A/N: And so it begins…**


	9. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

No one downstairs heard Steve die. They were all congregated in the living room. The silence was punctuated only by the radio, but no one was dancing anymore. Ben was sitting on the couch, his head in his hands, looking at the floor. He had taken off the vampire cape and now sat in just a shirt and jeans. Katie sat beside him, rubbing his back comfortingly. Joey and Alice stood by the window, still clutching each other even though their fear had long since died away. And Miranda was positioned awkwardly in the corner, eyes staring at the rug.

At length, Miranda decided to apologize. Glancing up at the couch, she said, "Ben, I'm sorry. We never meant to scare you like that."

Ben looked up, his face just as blank as the mask Steve had worn. He said nothing.

Miranda continued in a quavering voice, "We only meant it to be a simple Halloween prank. We never thought you'd be so upset by it. I mean, we knew it would scare you all, but we hoped you'd laugh it off afterward. We had no idea that you would take it so hard. Sorry." She dropped her gaze again.

Ben still didn't say anything. He just stared at Miranda for a long time, trying to calculate the sincerity of her apology. He was pretty sure she was being totally honest, but all the same, it would be a long time before he would be able to look at her and smile again.

Katie was still rubbing his back and said nothing. Ben sighed and murmured to her, "Thanks."

"No problem," Katie answered, leaning in closer and kissing him on the cheek.

Silence fell again.

"What the hell is taking him so long?" Miranda said after a while, looking up at the ceiling. "He should have been back by now."

No one replied, so she added, "I'll go check up on him."

She left the room, and no one was particularly sorry to see her go.

She reached the foot of the stairs and called up, "Steve? What's taking you so long up there? Did you fall in or something?"

Steve didn't answer. Miranda frowned. She hated being ignored.

She started climbing the stairs and reached the landing, where she saw that the bathroom door was shut. She approached it and knocked on the door. "Steve? Open up, it's me," she said.

No reply.

"Steve, open the fucking door," she said, more impatiently now. "You need to come downstairs and apologize to Ben. You really freaked him out and you owe him that."

Still nothing.

She pounded the door with her fist and said, "Damn it, Steve, why won't you answer me?"

She twisted the doorknob, expecting it to be locked. To her surprise, it turned easily. She pushed the door open.

The bathroom was empty.

"Steve?" Miranda said, looking around. "You in here?"

She eyed the shower curtain, which was drawn. "Are you trying to scare me?" she said, grinning and rolling her eyes, "I would have thought you'd learned your lesson."

She reached out and pulled the curtain back.

She screamed.

Steve's body was laying face-up in the tub, his eyes wide in unseeing horror, blood covering his chest and belly, seeping through a long gash that started at his throat and went all the way down to his waist. A slice of intestine was dangling out of the wound, soaked in blood and sticking to his skin.

Miranda's mind couldn't grasp what she was seeing. It wasn't possible, it couldn't be. How could this be happening?

She screamed again suddenly as a powerful hand yanked her hair backward and exposed her slender neck. She caught a brief glimpse of the masked shape in the mirror before the knife slashed swiftly across her throat. Her scream turned into a gurgle as blood burst from the cut, splattering over the floor and tub. She slumped forward and hit the floor with a wet thud, and the stranger stared down at her bleeding body, tilting his head to the side as though surveying a work of art.

…

Downstairs, everyone heard Miranda scream. They looked up at the ceiling in surprise, and Joey muttered, "What the hell?"

The screaming stopped abruptly, and Ben felt his blood chill. "Do you think something's happened?" he asked, though he couldn't think of a single thing that would make Miranda scream like that.

Joey seemed to think for a moment before he said, "I think Steve must have tried to scare her too."

Ben snorted, "Bastard," and returned his gaze to the floor. Trust Steve to do something so tasteless. He really never learned, did he? Miranda would probably be stomping down the stairs any minute now, pouting with her arms crossed, with Steve right behind her.

Five minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen. And no one returned. Ben glanced back up at the ceiling. "Why haven't they come back yet?" he asked.

Joey shrugged. "Do you think we should check?"

Ben hesitated before answering, "I suppose. Just to be safe."

He and Katie got up, and the foursome moved into the foyer, staring up at the stairs. "Miranda?" Ben called, his voice sounding loud in the silent house. "Are you okay?"

No one answered him.

"Miranda?" he called again. "Steve? Is everything all right up there?"

When he heard no reply, he tentatively put one foot on the bottom stair and stepped up. "Guys?" he called. "If this is another joke, I'll kill you, I swear I will."

Nothing except the creaking of the house.

They started to climb the stairs slowly, their ears straining to catch the smallest sound that might hint at what they were about to face. Ben was pretty sure this was another of Steve's pranks, but the nearer he got to the second floor, the less certain he became. This was too professional. He should have heard something by now, the creak of a floorboard, excited whispering, anything that would give away that they were plotting something. But he heard nothing.

They reached the landing and faced the hall. The first thing Ben noticed was that the bathroom door was pulled to, and light was pouring from under it. He started toward it, apprehension rising in his chest. A small voice in the back of his head wondered if this was really a joke. What if something was really and truly wrong? Just what were they about to find?

They drew level with the bathroom door and stopped, facing it uncertainly. Beyond this door, Ben was certain they would find the answer. He reached up and, taking a deep breath, pushed the door open.

"Oh my God!" Katie gasped, her hands coming up to cover her mouth.

Ben couldn't think of a single thing to say, though even if he could he doubt he'd have been able to utter a word.

The bathroom was covered in blood. The shower curtain was pulled back, red streaks running down its side and pooling in the tub. The floor was covered with the stuff, as if someone had upended a bucketful of red paint. It was a scene out of a horror film. Ben felt the gorge rise in his throat and fought hard not to vomit.

"Is…is it real?" Alice squeaked.

Ben shook his head. "I don't know," he replied shakily. "Sure looks like it."

"Don't jump to conclusions," Joey said, though his pale face belied his rational tone of voice. "This is Steve we're talking about here. I wouldn't put it past him to dump fake blood on the floor as some kind of sick joke."

Ben didn't say anything. His eyes slowly scanned over the puddle on the floor, noticing what seemed to be faint streaks, as if something had been dragged through it. Following the disturbances in the blood, he saw that the trail continued past them into the hall. And from there it went…

…right up to his bedroom door.

"This is a sick joke," Ben said. His throat was very dry. He suddenly wasn't so sure this was a prank. Something was definitely wrong here.

They started toward Ben's bedroom, and Ben suddenly remembered that it had been Judith Myers' bedroom forty-five years ago. The though gave him no comfort. As they drew closer to the closed door, he noticed that the smears of blood in the carpet seemed to be getting smaller and fainter. He had no idea what it meant, but he was sure it wasn't good.

Ben reached out and pushed his bedroom door open.

There was a large lump in his bed, covered by the bed sheets and the thick comforter. It was there that the trail of blood ended. Ben stepped up to the bed and hesitated, now suddenly hoping that Steve was about to jump up at him and scream. Even if he jumped out of his skin and squealed like a little girl, he would feel relieved that nothing was wrong. He would then beat the living shit out of Steve for putting them through this.

He reached out and took the hem of the comforter in his hand. Pausing, he glanced at the others. Katie and Alice were looking downright terrified. Katie was pale and trembling, and Alice was clinging to Joey. Joey himself was looking apprehensive, but he met Ben's gaze and nodded once. Returning his eyes to his bed, Ben took a deep breath and yanked the covers back.

Katie screamed. Alice let out a terrified squeak and collapsed into Joey's arms. Joey gasped, "Jesus!" Ben took a hasty step backward and stared in utter terror at the sight that met his eyes.

Steve and Miranda were wrapped in a grotesque embrace, blood pouring and seeping out of deep, fatal wounds in their throats and torsos, covering their clothes and the sheets. Their eyes were open and staring at some unseen horror, fear forever embedded in their gaze.

After a moment of stunned, petrified silence, Ben spoke in a quavering voice. "Who? Who did this?"

He turned to face the others and saw something in the hallway beyond, something that made his blood run cold and his heart stand still. "Oh my God," he breathed.

The others turned to see what he was looking at and saw the shape standing in the hall, blue coveralls drenched in blood, butcher knife clutched tight in its hand, white mask livid and terrifying, the eyeholes black and unseeing.

Michael Myers.

**A/N: Cue the ****_Halloween _****pursuit music! Only two chapters left. Hope you're enjoying it. :) **


	10. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Michael started walking purposefully down the hall toward the bedroom. Ben lunged forward and slammed the door shut, pulling the lock with trembling fingers and backing away just as a heavy fist pounded it from the other side.

"What're we gonna do?!" Katie cried, looking around the room for an escape route.

"The window!" Ben said. "Open the window!"

He ran to it and pulled the latch, yanking up and groaning. "It's jammed," he grunted. "Joey, help me out!"

Joey took a hold and pulled with all his strength, but even their combined efforts couldn't lift the window.

Meanwhile, Michael was pounding on the door with staggering blows that made it rattle on its hinges. Then, with the sound of splintering wood, he shoved the bloody knife through it, creating a small hole.

Ben looked wildly around the room and saw the chair by his desk. "Hand me that chair," he said, and Alice hastened to obey. Ben took it from her and threw it at the window. The glass shattered with a loud crash, and Ben said, "Okay, go on, get out!"

Michael pounded his fist on the door again, and the weakened barrier gave way, cracking under the force he rammed into it. One large, gnarled hand reached through the hole and groped around for the lock.

"Hurry!" Ben added, taking Katie's hand and helping her through the hole. She stepped out onto the porch roof, made it to the edge, and jumped off, landing in a roll and standing up. Joey aided Alice through, but she hesitated for a moment. "Joey…" she whimpered.

Michael's hand found the lock and twisted it. Ben looked around as he heard the door open. Michael Myers stood there, knife held at his side, ready to attack.

"Ben, run!" Joey cried, lurching away from Alice, who remained frozen in the broken window, and lunging for Ben's bookshelf. One by one he started hurling books at the shape, which paused and looked toward him, tilting its head slightly as it pondered.

Then it headed for Joey.

"Shit!" Joey backed away until he met the wall. Michael advanced on him, raising the knife.

"Look out!" Ben yelled.

The shape rammed the knife into Joey's chest.

Alice screamed, "JOEY!"

Joey's mouth was open in a silent scream. Michael withdrew the knife, and he slumped to the floor, his hands coming up to cover the wound as if to stem the flow of blood pouring from it. Alice was screaming, tears running down her face. Joey turned his head slightly to look at her and Ben, who stood motionless, watching with wide, disbelieving eyes. "Go," he choked, blood dribbling from his lips as he spat the word out with his last few breaths. "_Go!_"

Then he collapsed and went still.

The shape turned toward Ben.

Ben shoved a sobbing Alice out the window and tried to follow her, but Michael was upon him in a second, seizing his ankle as he pulled himself through. Gasping, Ben wrenched himself free, overbalanced, and fell. His knees hit the roof with a thud, and he rolled down the steep grade, broken glass cutting into his hands as he tried to use them to slow his progress. He rolled right off the porch overhang and fell to the ground below. He tried to tuck into a ball to minimize his impact, but he was too late. He landed heavily on his right foot and heard the ankle crack before agonizing pain shot up his leg, and he cried out, toppling onto all fours.

When he rolled over and looked up, he saw the awful white mask protruding from the broken window, staring down at them.

He tried to stand and managed to straighten, but the pain in his ankle was almost more than he could bear. "Are you okay?" Katie asked, hurrying over to help him.

"Fine, I'm fine," he said dismissively. "Come on, we've got to get help."

He glanced back up at the house behind him and saw that, to his horror, Michael had vanished from the window. "He's coming," he said. "Let's go!"

They turned and ran to the house next door, which was occupied by a middle-aged man Ben had never met. Ben was limping and dragging his injured ankle, and Katie was lagging behind to help him. Alice, her face streaked with tears, was the first to reach the porch and pounded on the door, shrieking, "Help! Somebody help us, please!"

Ben reached the door and joined in. "Hey! Open up! Open up, please! Hurry!"

He glanced back at the house and saw the front door open. Michael emerged, looking their way and starting toward them. Ben's heart hammered in his chest as he slammed his bleeding fists on the door repeatedly, yelling, "Open the door, please! He's coming! Help us, please! Someone! He's coming! Open the fucking door!"

The shape had now reached the fence that separated the two yards and was coming ever closer. The butcher knife glistened in the moonlight, slick with their friends' blood.

The porch light came on, and Ben looked wildly around at the window, where he saw the house's occupant peer out at them. "Help us, please!" Ben yelled.

He heard the lock click and the door opened. The three teens surged inside, and Ben slammed the door shut and locked it. The man who'd opened the door blinked in bewilderment and asked, "What the hell is this all about?"

By way of explanation, Ben merely gasped, "Michael Myers."

The man's face went pale. "What?"

"Michael Myers is out there!" Ben said.

The man stared at them, taking in their haggard, terrified, and (in Ben's case) bloodied appearance. "Young man, if this is some kind of joke—"

"_Do I look like I'm fucking joking?!_" Ben roared, throwing out his bleeding hands for him to see. "_Michael Myers is outside right now and he's coming for us! So call the fucking police before—_"

_CRASH!  
_

The foyer window shattered and Michael forced himself into the room. Ben swore and ushered the others further into the house, but the homeowner, eyes wide in shock and horror, just stared as the shape approached him. "NO!" Ben yelled, but too late. Michael swung his arm and plunged the knife up through the man's throat just under the chin, the blade shooting through his mouth and right on up into his brain. The man's eyes almost popped from their sockets as his body seized up and then went completely limp, blood trickling down from the fatal wound and spattering onto the floor.

Ben yelled, "Go! GO!" and followed Katie and Alice into the hall. Michael yanked the knife free and the man's body collapsed in a heap. Then the shape followed the three kids, his pace brisk but unhurried. The teens fell into the kitchen and slammed the door to the hall shut, locking it just as Michael reached it. They knew, though, that doors were not a problem for him, so they wasted no time in retreating out the back door and into the woods behind the house. Ben, using some last vestiges of sense, locked the door behind him before shutting it. Then they ran.

But they hadn't gone far before Ben pulled up, gasping, "I can't…can't go any further…" He reached down to rub his throbbing ankle, grimacing.

"Then what do we do? Where do we go?" Katie asked, looking fearfully back at the house they'd just fled.

Ben glanced up and saw that they were in his own backyard. The Myers house stood before them once again.

"Back inside," Ben answered. "Maybe we can find something to defend ourselves with."

No one could think of anything better, so they all hurried up to the back door. Ben, remembering that he'd locked it that afternoon, shoved his hand through the window, slicing his hand again but not caring. Reaching inside, he found the lock, twisted it, and opened the door, letting the others in before slamming it shut. The kitchen lights seemed warm and inviting after the darkness of the forest.

"There," Ben gasped, pointing to the wooden block by the stove that held all the knives. "Grab them."

Katie pulled out all the knives, which varied greatly in size, and passed them out. Alice didn't want to take hers. She was still sobbing over Joey's death. But Katie forced one into her hand, hissing, "Don't you dare give up now, Alice."

She then handed the largest knife to Ben. When he looked questioningly at it, she said, "It's you he's after, not us."

There was a beat. Then Ben nodded and accepted the proffered weapon. "Okay. We have to think logically. First, we need to call—"

The lights flickered and went out.

**A/N: Only one chapter left! I hope you're enjoying it! **


	11. Chapter Ten

**A/N: Last chapter! Enjoy! **

Chapter Ten

Alice screamed. Katie yelped and whirled about, brandishing the knife in her hand. Ben tensed, looking around the dark room wildly. "He's found us," he breathed. "Everyone, stay alert. Don't let your guard down for an instant."

Katie sidled up to him and pressed her body against his. Her warmth was very comforting. He took her hand in his as he twisted, looking around for any sign of the shape.

A low creaking sound made him turn. His stomach turned to ice. The back door was open.

"Oh no," he moaned, peering uncertainly through the darkness. "He's in here."

There was utter silence as they all turned in tight circles, searching for Michael. Wherever he was, he was hiding extremely well. There was no sign of him.

Then Ben heard a single heavy breath and spun around in time to see a black mass rise up right behind Alice, the knife flashing silver in its upraised hand. Alice turned and screamed, shoving her knife into the shape's chest. Michael doubled over, one hand clutching the spot where she'd stabbed him, blood pouring through his fingers. Alice seized her opportunity and stabbed him again, this time in the back of the neck. Michael's legs buckled and he hit the floor, spasms wracking his body. Then he went still, the fingers clutching the knife relaxing in finality.

Ben breathed a sigh of relief, lowering his knife and staring down at Michael's sprawled body. He made no move, didn't even twitch. "It's over now," he said. "He's dead."

He turned away and stepped over to the phone hanging on the wall by the door. "I'll call the police."

Katie and Alice turned away from the shape on the floor. The knife slipped from Alice's fingers and clattered to the floor. She hunched her shoulders and sobbed. Katie took her into her arms and tried to comfort her.

Thus situated, they did not see the shape sit up and turn its head in their direction.

Ben picked up the phone and put it to his ear, lifting a finger to dial, but he stopped, frowning. He listened for a second and said, "The phone's dead."

No one replied.

Then Alice screamed, and the others wheeled around in shock. Michael was standing right behind her and held her hair in his clenched fist, pulling her head back to an unnatural position. "NO!" Katie screamed.

With a sharp crack, the shape jerked Alice's head back. Her neck broken, her body crumpled to a heap on the floor before them.

Katie shrieked and staggered backward into Ben, who wrapped his arms protectively around her. "Come on!" he yelled, dragging her limply back toward the dining room door, "We have to move, Katie! We have to run NOW!"

Katie tore her eyes away from Alice's body and took off, Ben following close behind. They ran through the dining room and living room to the foyer and up the stairs to the second floor, Ben dragging his injured ankle the whole way. The shape followed close behind. At the landing, Ben turned around and found himself face-to-face with the hideous mask. For a brief instant, he felt as if his insides had turned to ice. The eyeholes were dark, and he could feel the evil pouring out of the killer's very soul.

Then he reached up and gave Michael a hearty shove, narrowly avoiding the blade of the knife as it came slashing down toward him. The shape overbalanced and fell head over heels down the stairs, giving Ben and Katie a slight advantage. Katie started toward Ben's bedroom, but Ben hesitated and called, "Wait!" Katie turned, eyes wide with bewildered terror, but Ben wasn't looking at her. He was looking at another door, closer to the staircase. He glanced back down the stairs and saw Michael rising to his feet, head turned up to stare at him.

"I've got an idea!" Ben hissed, motioning for Katie to join him. She did, and they hurried into the nearer room, which his parents had set up as a guest bedroom. Ben slammed the door shut, locked it, and whispered his plan to Katie.

She blinked. "Do you think it will work?"

Ben had no idea if it would or not, but they had to do something and he couldn't think of anything else to try. So he nodded and ushered her into the closet, hissing, "Wait till I give the signal!"

Katie nodded and then flinched as Michael began banging on the door from the other side. Ben gave her a quick kiss and said, "It'll all be over soon, I promise." Then he shut the closet door, hiding her from view.

Ben turned and stepped into the center of the room, facing the door as it shook and shuddered under the attacks being rained upon it. Then the wood cracked, splintered, and the shape burst into the room. Ben tensed and tried to regulate his breathing. Slowly, Michael stepped toward him, the ugly mask glowing eerily in the moonlight, the knife shining and covered in glistening blood.

Then he came to a stop, mere feet from where Ben stood.

Ben and Michael faced each other for a moment. Neither of them moved. The only sound was of the shape's breathing, a sound magnified by the rubber mask on its face.

Then Ben said calmly, "Hello, Michael."

The shape cocked its head to the side, as if the name sounded vaguely familiar to it.

"You're angry with me, aren't you?" Ben said, his heart hammering but his voice calm and level. "You're angry that I moved into your house. Is that right? Is that why you've killed my friends? Is that why you're trying to kill me?"

Michael said nothing. He didn't move.

"That's it, isn't it Michael?" Ben went on. "You're mad because I've invaded your territory. This house…you see it as your personal domain, don't you? Your kingdom. And I'm the unwelcome intruder. You're trying to protect what's yours, right?"

Still nothing from the shape.

Ben tilted his head slightly, mirroring Michael's posture. "This was your bedroom, isn't it Michael?" he asked. He saw the shape stiffen in response and could guess the answer. "It is. This was the room you stayed in when you were a kid." He laughed, a high-pitched, slightly crazy sound. "So how do you feel about me standing here in it, Michael? How does it feel for me to be standing here in your bedroom, your sanctuary?" He paused. "You don't like it, do you Michael? No…you don't like it at all…"

Michael's fingers tightened around the knife handle.

"Well what are you waiting for, Michael?" Ben asked, spreading his arms and displaying open hands. (The knife was tucked into the waistband of his jeans.) "I'm right here. I'm the one you want. So go on, get on with it. Come and get me, Michael."

The shape stared at him for a long moment. It was impossible to tell what was going on behind the mask, what thoughts were going through its dark, twisted mind. Ben held his breath, waiting.

Then Michael stepped forward, advancing on Ben, who felt his heart pound harder than ever. The shape paused, raising the knife above his head, preparing to deliver a fatal attack…

"NOW!" Ben yelled.

Katie charged out from her hiding place and attacked. Michael, caught off guard, didn't react in time to prevent Katie's knife from sinking deep into his neck. Blood spurted from the wound, spattering all over Katie and the floor, but she paid it no mind. She stabbed him again and again, in the neck, the face, the chest, the belly, the shoulders. The shape staggered backward, then raised its own knife to attack.

Ben rushed forward and tackled Michael, throwing him backward and into the window. It shattered on impact, and the shape fell through it and to the lawn below, where a white picket fence separated the property from the neighbor's. With a loud crunch, Michael landed on that fence and was impaled upon one of the posts, which protruded red and glistening from his chest. His body went into a series of spasms, jerking and twitching, and finally went still, the knife falling from his limp fingers, his body slumping over the wrecked fence.

Michael Myers was dead.

Ben sighed and looked back at Katie. She was slumped against the wall, breathing heavily and wiping sweat from her forehead. Her masquerade costume was a wreck, torn and tattered from the night's events. Ben made to step toward her but swayed on the spot, suddenly weak and drained. Now that the adrenaline was fading, the pain in his injured ankle and hands increased dramatically.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I've been better," she muttered.

"He's dead now," Ben said, motioning toward the shattered window. "Take a look for yourself."

Katie stepped forward and gazed emotionlessly down at Michael's bloody, torn body. She nodded in grim satisfaction before turning away and falling into Ben's arms. He held her close and kissed her as tears started to stream from her eyes. "Thank God you're okay," he muttered.

They stood like that for a long time, for exactly how long they didn't know. After a moment Ben said, "I'm so sorry, Katie."

She looked up at him, surprised. "Ben, it's not—"

"Yes it is," Ben interrupted. "It's my fault that they all died, all my fault. If I hadn't agreed to host the party here, if I'd just stood up to Steve…" He shook his head. "…if I hadn't even _moved _here, none of this would have happened."

Katie sighed, "It's not your fault, Ben. None of us had any idea this would happen. We had no idea Michael Myers was still alive, and none of us ever dreamed he'd come back tonight. Believe me, Ben. This isn't your fault."

Ben sighed, not at all reassured but unwilling to argue. "I'd better call the police, I guess," he murmured and started fishing his cell phone from his pocket. He dialed 911 and held the phone to his ear, turning to gaze down at the corpse below—

It was gone.

Ben inhaled sharply and dropped the phone. "Oh my God," he breathed.

Katie, alarmed by the sudden change in his voice, twisted around to look down at the spot where Michael had just been moments before. There was no sign of him, just a shattered fence and a bloody post indicating where he had been.

So that had to mean that he was still alive.

For a moment neither of them spoke, their confusion and terror making speech impossible. But each of them was wondering the same thing.

In a year, or maybe two, or maybe three, where would Michael Myers strike next?

Katie finally unstuck her throat. "He really is the bogeyman, isn't he?"

Ben shook his head in disbelief. "Yeah. I guess he is."

**A/N: The End…or not… **

**I hope you enjoyed the story! If you did, then you might like what I have planned for this Halloween: I'm writing another ****_Halloween _****fan fiction: ****_Halloween: Bloodline. _****This will the first of a series of ****_Halloween _****stories I'm hoping to write and post here on fanfiction every October. They won't continue this story arc but will instead create an entirely new one that I hope will be terrifying and entertaining. So this October, keep your eyes open for it. **

**Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed the story as much as I have enjoyed writing it! **


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